


the fear that grips you

by Meadow_Wanderer



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accident, Alone, Angst, Betrayal of Frienships, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fear, Hurt Stiles, Hybrids, Killings, Loss of Trust, M/M, Magic Spark, New Ties, Pre-Slash, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-01-15 19:03:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1315843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meadow_Wanderer/pseuds/Meadow_Wanderer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he was a kid, they told him that monsters aren't real, just made up stories to scare you. His dad used to say the boogeyman would get him if he didn't eat all his vegetables, but hey, at seven years old you'd believe anything too! But he remembers how his mom would always check under the bed and in the closet at night to appease his childish fears, then tuck him in with a goodnight kiss. It was those things that made him feel safe.</p>
<p>As he grew up, they begin to tell him that monster do exist, just not like those in childhood stories. They are thieves who lurk in dark allies, murderers concealed in the shadows at night, psychos who want nothing more than to hurt you. So they taught him how to stay away from those people and to take precautions. And somehow he started to believe if he did all this, he would be safe.</p>
<p>But the problem is, they never told him that the people we love and care about can sometimes turn out to be monsters themselves. The ones who you trust beyond all doubt, who you share all your secrets with, who you would die for to protect. The ones who never made him question if he was truly safe or not.</p>
<p>"Sometimes the people you'd take a bullet for, are the ones behind the trigger."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You rip my world apart

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! So this is the first Teen Wolf story that I've written, obviously will be deterring from the show and the timeline of events, but I hope I you all like it. The story will flow into a complex plot that I have in my head with some original characters coming into the mix. Feedback is welcome just try not to be too harsh if it doesn't please ya. Thanks!
> 
> Also the last quote in the summary is one I saw on tumblr on a pic a while ago, but thank you to TheeSourwolf for telling me it was based on the lyrics from Fall Out Boy's Miss Missing You!  
> Hope you enjoy! <3

Derek Hale is a man of few, if any words at all. On the rare occasions that he did open his mouth, it was either to flash his sharp fangs with a growl, to bark out commands to the pack, or to threaten someone (Stiles is sure 75% of those threats have been directed at him). But the point is, no matter how little he speaks, he tries to be a good Alpha. It shows in moments when he leads the pack while still learning along the way, because it was a role that was never meant to be his in the first place. He's tough and for the most part blunt, but he's encouraging. Heck, he would probably even be considered fun if he wasn't such a sourwolf, what with all that damn brooding and anger issues. Still, despite whatever grumpy ass mood he may be in, he knows when he oversteps the boundaries and apologizes, no matter how pained or begrudged he looks by it.

So Stiles never saw it coming that Derek, hell the pack would hurt him, worse than any physical wounds he's endured over the past year. Sure, they may fight and not always see eye to eye, but they were a pack. He thought they all understood each other, bonded with each other. Why should he have feared them when they had battled together side by side defending one another? He thinks back to when he was looking through works of different philosophers like Friedrich Nietzsche, who once wrote, _"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster."_

It's kinda cool and yet a little sad when a 19th century philosopher's advice still needs to be heeded today.

*** 

Derek slammed his hands on the dining room table covered in maps and folklore books, causing some in the room to jump and others to flinch. Stiles could see the rigidness of his shoulders as he was breathing harshly, claws beginning to to make their appearance. Scott, who had finally accepted the offer to be apart of Derek's, looked like he wanted to say something but didn't want to overstep his bounds. Standing near to him, Erica bit her lip and Boyd stood up straighter, both looking weary of the enraged Alpha. Stiles could see on the other side of the room, Jackson placing a hand on Lydia's shoulder, tense eyes unmoving from Derek's clawed out hands. Peter stood leaning archway of the living room, looking disinterested and bored.

Which left Isaac, the every pleasing puppy, trying to appease him, "C'mon Derek.." 

Immediately he was silenced by a loud growl, making him shrink back and causing a shiver to run up Stiles' spine. Oh yeah, Derek was pissed, like _fuming_ pissed. It was understandable though, especially when dealing with mounting evidence piling up against the pack now a days.

In the past weeks, a couple of teens had been found in the woods, badly mauled with deep claw marks marking their abdomens. Cops though it could be an animal attack, but Stiles could see supernatural written all over this. Of course none of the werewolves here had decided to go on a killing spree, but Chris Argent and his contacts weren't exactly seeing the pack in an innocent light at the moment, leading to a heavy tension threatening to break their already fragile truce. That and he wasn't allowing Allison over at the Hale House anymore, which made obviously made Scott and Lydia upset. This whole thing was messing with pack dynamics.

In fact, the murders had put everyone in Beacon Hills on edge, causing the police department to be swamped. Stiles' father had been buried deep in the case for the past weeks, coming home late and leaving early. He could see the stress and citizen complaints starting to take it's toll on his dad, adding on to the pile already there from dealing with all the trouble he and the pack had caused.

Stiles had tried to help with his research, looking through everything and anything he could find. Heck, he even read the bestiary through twice, which let him tell you that trying to translate ancient latin sucks balls. But translate and read he did, hoping to see if there was any beast or mythical creature that left no other trace other than claw marks similar to those made by wolves, but a little longer looking from the photographs he had snuck a peek at when his dad wasn't looking. Eventually, after days of research, his finding were shocking and disheartening: _Nothing. Zilch. Nada._  No books nor random nerdy supernatural blogs online could identify what it might be, well nothing beside the obvious clues pointing to werewolves, which was not really not helpful against their case.

After a few seconds, Derek turned around to look at Scott, Erica, and Boyd. "You couldn't find anything? Not even a scent? Nothing?"

They shook their heads no, averting their eyes to the ground. At the moment, the three of them looked like puppies who had accidentally peed on the carpet and were about to get in trouble with their master. Stiles saw Peter sift slightly in his spot, "Now nephew, you can't expect them to find what isn't there?"

Derek turned his eyes on his uncle, the irritated expression never disappearing from his face. "What are you trying to say Peter? That these kids are just magically turning up dead?"

Peter shrugged his shoulder, focusing his eyes on his own claws. "No..but, maybe one of your little pups couldn't control themselves during the shift?" His blue eyes slid up to look at the others. "Wouldn't be the first time now wouldn't it?"  Stiles felt a sickening feeling in his gut that things were about to go very wrong.

Jackson, the ever 'jump-in-head-first-think-about-the-consequences-later' kind of guy, smirked at Peter. "Maybe you went on a murdering rampage Peter? Wouldn't be the first time now wouldn't it?

Peter just smiled that freakin creepy smile at him. "Well I can tell you that I have my wolf under control. But as for yours, I wouldn't be so sure since you lost control last week I believe? Tried to take a good chunk out of Isaac, right?" Jackson immediately paled as Peter sent a smirk and disappeared further into the house.

Derek immediately spun around, furious gaze at Jackson. "WHAT?!"

Ah, see well it was just Stiles, Lydia, Jackson, and Isaac that day and Jackson had been pissed that he was benched that day at practice due to the fact he kept ramming into everyone. So come time for fighting practice at the Hale house while Derek was out, Jackson literally went murderous on Isaac and had scratched him up pretty badly. Stiles just remember there was a lot of blood, Lydia screaming at Jackson to stop, and then Jackson having the realization he was loosing it and taking off into the woods. Hours later, when he returned exhausted from running and Isaac was healed up, the four of them agreed that Derek wouldn't find out that Jackson had lost control. Guess that plan just went to shit? 

Jackson gulped loudly. "I was angry that day and I lost control fighting Isaac. I'm sorry, I just.."

Derek immediately charged at him, Jackson pushing Lydia out of the way and into Stiles arms as he caught her. Derek pushed Jackson flat to the ground, holding a one of his arms behind his back in a steel grip. "So you thought I wouldn't find out? Tried to hide it from me? Did you lose control again and kill those kids?!"

"Hey! no I..." he didn't get to finish his sentence as Derek pulled his arm back, causing Jackson to yell as the sound of a bone snapping echoed in the room. That was when Stiles drew the line.

"STOP!" He rushed over to the two, pushing Derek off of Jackson who willingly got off of him. Lydia immediately swooped down to help Jackson sit up, while he cradled his broken arm. Stiles looked up to see Derek still looking pissed at Jackson. "You can't just do that!" Derek turned his gaze towards him.

"And why not? He's my beta and he needs to learn how to control himself."

Stiles flapped his hand around. "That doesn't mean you can just take off and go damage him! He didn't even do it! Just cause you're Alpha doesn't give you the right to hurt them! I'm sorry that there's these killings going on, but we'll figure it out like we always do! But you first need to learn how to control yourself first since you obviously have a big freakin problem with that!" 

Next thing he knew Derek was slamming him up against the wall, staring at him with red eyes. "You think you know anything? You think earned the right to tell me what to do?! You are nothing but a weak, pathetic human Stiles. All you are is a liability, a clumsy muck up. I don't care what you think or do. Even your best friend doesn't give a care about you. Why would he when he's finally got the girl, popularity, and strength. You've seen it yourself that he'll drop everything and anything for a girl, abandoning you in the dust like you're nothing. You can look around and see that all these people here, the ones I gave a home, a pack, they don't give a shit about you. You think just cause you look up a few facts, makes you suddenly useful? Ha, if that's your only use, might as well just leave cause that's pathetic. We don't need you, we don't want here. You're not pack, so you should just leave."

Stiles looked at the others who all avoided his eyes, even Scott who kept his gaze down towards the wooden floor. They all think that? 'It..it can't be true. It can't.' Stiles swallowed down the lump, refusing to let Derek's words get to him. He wouldn't break, he couldn't after trying so long to hold it all in.

A hand gently grabbed his chin, making his eyes meet Derek's eyes, the vibrant red color of them flashing into Stiles' honey ones like fires burning down everything in their path. He holds Stiles' face as if it made of glass, fragile and breakable just as it is. And Derek knows this, leaning his face close to Stiles where their noses barely brush against each other. "But I think I know why you still stick around here, despite nobody wanting you here. My guess is that you don't want to go home. Maybe even your dad doesn't want to be around you." Stiles immediately felt like he had been kicked in the stomach, making his brave composure begin to crumble. The others in the room probably heard his heart rate escalate. "I mean why would he be when all you do is lie to him and mess things up for him, just protect people who couldn't care less about you. Only thing you make him feel is disappointed. Must have finally gotten tired of dealing with it for so many years on his own, not even being able to handle caring for his screw up son without the support of your dead..." Stiles ripped his face out of Derek's hands, turning his head to the side and pushing his back as close as possible to the wall, while the room fell silent.

Nobody moved, nobody said anything.

Stiles would think even Derek realized he had went to far, but that fleeting thought didn't matter, because all he could feel and think in this moment was the heartbreaking pain that had an invisible vice grip on his throat. He could see Derek taking slow steps back in his side vision and turn around to to face the pack. Stiles could feel eyes on him, but no one made a move over to comfort him, to tell him that Derek was wrong. They all seemed to agree to their alpha's words in silent submissiveness and he suddenly couldn't take it being in this house one more second.

Stiles ran over to the front door, ripping it open and letting it slam against the wall as he took off into the humid night. Inside, it felt like something had severed with a slash, leaving him feeling breathless. He sprinted over to his jeep, hopping in and putting the keys into the ignition. Once it roared to life, he speed off down the gravel road, no one once coming out to try and stop him.  

*** 

After a few minutes, he pulls over his car, feeling the onsets of a panic attack beginning. He rests his head on his steering wheel as his lungs constrict painfully, leaving him gasping rapidly and feeling claustrophobic in the old jeep. The past few months of holding everything in has finally come crashing down around him.

He knew that he was human, constantly reminded of that fact time and time again, but after everything he had done, the countless amounts of research and fighting all things supernatural, putting the others before himself, devoting what seemed like everything to ensure his best friend and the rest didn't get their asses kicked; after everything he had risked and put on the line, lying to his dad and causing their relationship to become distant, taking beating and punches to protect them, and saving all of them more than once no matter how close he himself came to death; even after all that, he thought he had proven his worth, proven that he was useful. Sometimes he had doubted it, the feeling that he was only called upon as a last resort and ignored the rest of the time. That feeling had all left him curled up in bed, night after night while hoping that the truth wasn't true and that the loneliness of being ignored wouldn't hurt so bad.

But now suddenly there was no hiding from the truth that had been laid out before his eyes. They didn't need him, they didn't want him. Never have, never will. He was useless, alone, abandoned, cast out. They all just stood there as Derek belittled him and spoke words that even hearts of stone would crumble to dust at their cruelty. He thought the him and Derek understood each other, that they had moved past the not-trusting-each-other-issues, and it hurt to know that they hadn't moved forward at all but took several leaps back. But the thing that hurt the most was pack's silence and submission to Derek, silently agreeing with everything he said. It was like having that irrational fear people have that everyone hates them, suddenly turn out to be true. It tears him painfully from the inside out.

He feels himself start to finally calm down, his breathing beginning to turn into shaky breaths. He shakes his head as he slowly sits up and leans back in the seat. He can feel his chin quivering, trying hard not to start crying. What good would crying do for him now?

Its only when he looks forward out the front window does he see that he somehow ended up in front of the cemetery. If any other moment, he probably chuckled at his own subconscious' plans to come here, but now it just make this gaping whole in his chest ache. He hasn't been here in such a long time, with everything thats go on. He hasn't been here in so long to see _her_. He slowly climbs out of the jeep and stalks forward across the grass, not even caring if he trips around in the dark. His feet guide him, knowing exactly where she'll be.

He finally come to the familiar grave stone with this inscription,  _Claudia Stilinski, the loving mother and wife waiting in the wheat fields for us._

Stiles kneels down slowly till his knees touch the damp grass, resting his hand gently on her headstone. He swallows around his lump before he starts talking, "Hey mom, sorry I haven't been here in so long. It's just..." he thinks of all the moments this past year, from wanting to see a dead body, getting his best friend bitten, to meeting the pack, fighting alongside them against everything, getting beat up by Gerard, ignored by his best friend over a girl, being forgotten by his so called friends, disappointing his dad and....he shakes as he dips his head down on his the headstone, ".. God, I'm sorry mom. I'm just...so sorry." He releases quiet sobs as his shoulders shake. Screw it, if he's going to cry, might as well cry. And cry he does.

Unbeknownst to the crying teen, a pair of black eyes watch him sympathetically from the wooded forest a few yards away.

 *** 

He pulls into the driveway slowly, cutting to the engine to silence. He feels drained, numb, and quickly guilty as he sees his dad's cruiser parked beside his. He doesn't know how late it is, but with his luck, its probably really, really late. He can see the light he left on in his room and a lamp on in the living room. He takes in a shaky breath before stepping out of the jeep and shuts his door, walking up to the porch to the front door and unlocking it. He goes inside and is greeted by a frustrated and angry looking father standing over the kitchen table that has case files on it.

"Running off into the woods again?" his dad asks without even looking up.

He swallows the lump around his throat, and answers in the best even voice he can. "No."

He dad runs a hand over his face.  "It's midnight Stiles on a school night.." he turns his steady,  _disappointed_ gaze on him, "...in a town where kids are turning up dead and you don't think to call? Don't think to get home early?"

"Dad..I'm sorry..I.."

"No. I don't want to hear it. You're lucky I didn't send out everyone to start looking for you, but I guess I'm used to you returning late and doing everything I tell you not to, that I didn't. Thought you're probably running around with your friends getting in trouble, since you can't seem to just stay out of it."

"Dad I wasn't.."

He slams a hand down on the able. "I don't want to hear any more lies Stiles!" his upset shout making Stiles jump. "I don't believe anything that comes out of your mouth and haven't for a long time. Didn't I teach you to be honest, to always tell the truth. Me and your mother raised you better than that. God, what would she say now?"

Immediately, Stiles feels his throat closing up. They never talk about her, always too painful to remember, but to bring her up like this? It hurts how much his father's words cut the already painful wound in his chest. It hurts to think he's the reason there's a rift between two of them. _'Must have finally gotten tired of dealing with it for so many years on his own.'_

His dad shakes his head and turns to collect all the papers from the kitchen table. "I gotta head back in the station, working late on these cases. Stay inside and don't go out late in the woods." He grabs his jacket and carries it in one hand, with the files under his other arm. He passes Stiles on the way to the front door while muttering, "Maybe for once you'll actually do what you're told." 

Stiles stares ahead with devastation and disbelief in his eyes as he hears the front door slam shut. The sound of the cruiser's engine revs up before it fades away a few second later, traveling down the street.

For a few moments, he stand still, feet glued to the floor with only the ticking of the grandfather clock can be heard. In a somber silence, he slowly begins moving towards the stairs to head up to his room. He goes in his room, shutting the door with a soft click behind him. He kicks off his shoes and turns off the light, climbing into bed fully dressed.

He lays on his side, staring at the wall in the dark. After replaying everything that happened to night over and over in his mind, he feels a tear fall from his eye and slip down his face, another immediately following in its path. For months he's been feeling left out, always on the back burner of his best friend's life and questioning if he was really important in the pack. Now coming to find out he was never apart of it in the first place feels like his insides are being ripped apart. The sound of thunder echoes in the sky as rain lightly begins to hit the roof, growing steadier and louder with each passing moment. 

He chokes on a sob as he closes his eyes, praying sleep to take him away from this pain, to make him pretend that everything is ok before he has to go face this horrible reality later at school.

And sleep eventually does come to him, but with it brings the nightmares.

 


	2. Just steps from the ledge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I just wanted to say I was floored by the response and the amount of people reading this story so far. Thank you and I tried my best to work on this chapter as much as I could during these past few busy days. But here it finally is!
> 
> New original female character coming into play in this chapter who will be played by the lovely Genevieve Cortese; a pic if you need a visual ->  
> http://www.dvdsreleasedates.com/pictures/800/55000/Genevieve-Cortese.jpg
> 
> hope you enjoy!

 

 _Their glowing eyes all watch him as he struggles to stay afloat in the school's pool, his weighted limbs thrashing helplessly with each second seeming to make them heavier. His chin is only just hovering above the water compelling him to take in hurried, short breaths. His audience stands stoically, none of them even flinching at his terror-stricken panic, faces emotionless, as if staring at nothing at all. He gets in one more breath before he sinks under, his eyes starting to sting from the chlorine. An invisible force begins dragging him further down into the pool's depths,the figures of the pack growing blurry while they watch him drown. His lungs begin to burn as if they;re on fire, constricting in with the need for air. Suddenly, he feels his them burst as he closes his eyes and screams_ _helplessly_ _underwater._

 

Stiles sits up, breathing hard as beads of sweat gradually drip down his face. He takes in big gulps of air, trying to calm down the rapid beating of his heart in hopes to avoid another panic attack. Several moments pass before his breathing finally evens out as tries to shake off the fear.

 _Nightmares_. He hadn't had nightmares since he was nine, which was right after his mom had passed away. He remembers that his dad used to come running in to hold him, quietly shooshing him and say everything was going to be alright. But now, he sits on his bed, covered in sweat and insufferable grief, and no one is there to hold him.

He looks over to his alarm clock on his nightstand, bright red numbers telling him its 5:25 in the morning. He wipes his forehead and decides to get up to shower, knowing that he won't (and after that nightmare rather not) go back to sleep. He quietly slips out in the hall, passing his dad's closed door and into the bathroom, flicking the light on and shutting the door softly. He turns on the shower, the noise of the water drowning out his thoughts. He strips off his sweat ridden clothes and hops in, letting the warm spray run down his tense muscles.

They say that nightmares show us what we're truly afraid of, what we fear the most. Drowning in front of people he cares about and no one saving him shows him a pretty good idea of what he fears. It takes him a while to shake himself from it, to believe that it was all a dream. He knows of course it was, but it just felt so... _real._ He runs a hand over his chest, his lungs almost twinge with a sting as if remembering that they contracted and burst in his chest. Remembering the dream itself makes him think of the main character from an old science fiction book laying in his room, New Spring. The author Robert Jordan had wrote, _"He was swimming in a sea of other people’s expectations. Men had drowned in seas like that."_

The real horror was all of them, Scott, Derek, Erica, Lydia, Jackson, Isaac, Boyd had all just stood there and watched him drown, exactly like at the Hale house last night. He can feel distinguishable wetness falling from his eyes, while the shower's spray pours down on him. He wishes it could wash away more than just dirt.

He finishes showering and turns off the water with pruned hands, stepping out to dry himself off with a towel. He wraps it around his hips and quietly opens the door and sneaks back into his room. He puts on fresh clothes and freezes when he sees that it's 6:36. Had he really cried for that long? Guess times flies when you're world is crumbling apart.

A knock pulls him from his depressed thoughts, his head turning to see his dad poking his head into his room fully dressed in his uniform. He looks surprised to see his son up, which is understandable since he usually loves to sleep till he absolutely has to get up. Usually sleeping to avoid having to face another day of being ignored or berated about his stupidity and what not, but he after that nightmare, he knows sleep wouldn't come to him.

His dad swallows, probably feeling the heavy tension between them after last night. "Wanted to make sure you were awake early enough to get up for school, but I guess you're already up."

He nods wordlessly, averting his eyes to the ground to avoid seeing anymore disappointment than he can handle at the moment. 

There's a pause, before his dad clears his throat. "I'm heading to work. Make sure not to be late for school." He hears the door close and his dad's footsteps heading down the stairs.

Stiles sits on his bed, letting the minutes pass while staring at nothing, too lost in his worry of how today at school will go. He thinks its better if he got there early, avoided running into them and having to relive the pain over again. So at 7:10, he grabs his backpack and heads downstairs, seeing his dad's already gone to the station. With one final breath, he goes outside and gets into his jeep, driving towards school and in a way, his own personal hell.

***

It's funny how in almost two years since he started high school, he hasn't once been early. Then again, there hadn't been any reason he needed to. Guess the phrase "desperate times call for desperate measures" comes in to play sooner than later on this day. He gets out of his jeep, noticing in surprise that there are some people actually here early too. But no matter, he keeps his head down, eyes on his feet as he heads inside.

His ears are immediately hit with the sound of laughter and a few people talking loudly. People constantly brush past him, bump into him with nonchalant sorry's, no one caring if the talkative hyperactive nerd hasn't said a peep. He makes his way over to his locker, clammy fingers spinning the lock to open it. He gets the locker open, pulling out all the books he needs while trying not to let the sound of people's happiness dig him further into the ground than he already is. 

Somehow the universal decides to make his life more hellish, because he feels goosebumps form on his skin and the hair raise on the back of his neck. Call it a sixth sense, but he just knows that  _they're_ here. How many of them, he doesn't know, but one is more than plenty to cause his breathing to become quickened. _Not now, please not now._

"Hey yo Jackson!" some jock friend of his calls out, probably pulling him in for some chatter and lacrosse plays to go over. But the feeling doesn't disappear, the lung constricting, stinging eyed, shaky hand feeling as he knows just steps away from him is his best friend of 11 years. His best friend who ignored him for months, only coming to him when he needed something. His best friend that let Derek rip him to pieces, not bothering to stand by his side as Stiles has done countless time.

He refuses to turn around, pleading eyes looking into his locker as if it could suck him inside and hide him away from everything. All the background laughter and noise drowns out instantly, the only sound he can her is his heart beat pounding in his ears. He knows those light, but firm footsteps coming closer and closer to him. His can feel the beginning of a panic attack at the very edge, almost waiting to crash down on him.

Suddenly, a savor comes in to rescue him. "Scott!" Allison's sweet voice rushes towards them, he can hear her footsteps running behind him and stop as she hugs Scott tight. It's a distraction he'll take as he immediately shuts his locker and slips away, heading away from the lovely dovey couple. Somewhere inside his heart breaks further realizing he just lost more person with all the rest.

He heads inside his first class, taking a seat in the first row and as close to the window as possible. The room is empty except for him, a representation of his life materialized before his eyes. He stares out of the window, watching the wind ruffle the trees while friends hangout with joy on their faces. It's makes him hollow inside and causes his throat to strain.

The warning bell rings as students starts to trickle in one by one. He keep his head down, and watches for who will take the seat beside him and behind him. He knows that Isaac and Erica are in this class, causing him to say silent prayers that they sit by him. Luckily a quiet girl named Lucy sits beside him and a jock, Evan sits behind him near his buddies. Lucy flashes him a small smile, while he only manages to give her back a fake one. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Erica and Isaac sitting together in the opposite corner of the room, both of them never once glancing his way. As the teacher begins the lesson, he sinks in his chair and already knows this day is going to be hell.  

 ***

The summer before they started high school, Scott had made him promise that they wouldn't abandon each other. Stiles had joked that if he 'abandoned his best buddy, who would he sit with at lunch? He would have to eat in the bathroom all alone.' Scott had just smiled at him as they went back to playing video games.

That promise seems like a lifetime ago as he sits on the titled floor of the bathroom in the last stall, arms wrapped around his knees.

His original plan had been maybe to go drop of his books in his locker, grab his lunch and sit at a table by himself. But then turned and saw them all walking ahead of him to the cafeteria, arms around each other and talking with one another like a pack. It stung him hard as he ran the opposite way to the bathroom, where he sits now in silence and loneliness that seems to echo loudly in his mind.

The bell goes off, making him reluctantly get to his feet to leave. He heads to the door, passing with his hand on it to take a deep breath. Half the day is already done, he just has to make it through a few more classes and he'll be able to escape back to his bed. He can do this. He lets out his breath and pushes out into the hallway.

He heads over to his locker, opening it and grabbing the last few books he needs. People are starting to crowd into the hall, everyone hanging on to the last few minutes of lunch before class starts. He shuts his locker and turns to walk a few steps, before colliding into someone, papers and a few books scattering to the floor.

"Sorry" he chokes out as he bends down to help pick up stuff. He picks up a few papers and lifts his head, his eyes widening at the person in front of him. The girl has light almost tan skin, her dark hair up in a pony tail. She's wearing a flower print dress and black converse, which makes him like her instantly. When she lifts her gaze up to meet his, he find himself comforted by her warm brown eyes, holding a kindness that he hasn't seen or felt in awhile. She waves him off. "It's ok. I wasn't looking where I was going. Kinda too busy trying to find my way around this place." Her voice isn't high or perky, but has a cool, soothing tone that seems to ease his anxiousness. 

He nods and hands her the fallen stuff, both of them standing up. She smiles at him, "Thanks."

He clears his throat. "You said that you were trying to find you're way around? Just transferred?"

She nods and sticks out her hand, which he shakes it feeling her firm grip. "Yeah, sorry, I'm Raena. Just transferred here Monday from San Diego and still trying to memorize where everything is" She shakes her head, causing her wavy pony tail to sway as she chuckles. "So far, not very successful."

He feels the corners of his lips tug upwards. "I'm Stiles. I've been here all my life and um, welcome to Beacon Hills high school."

She chuckles. "Ooo a welcome committee, nice." His feels his chest warm at finally getting to talk to someone who doesn't want him to shut up after five seconds. "So, could I bother you to maybe give me a tour? Introduce to all you're super cool friends?" Her smile is genuine, but he feels his slip off immediately at her words. Friends? He doesn't have those anymore, apparently hasn't for a long time. 

She immediately notices his change in demeanor, her facial expression looking concerned. "Hey, are you ok? Did I say something wrong? Cause you totally don't have to have me follow you around like a puppy, it's cool. I can fend for myself."

Old Stiles would have laughed, old stiles would have jumped at the chance to gain more people to care about in his life. But as he looks up in the hall and see the pack sauntering out of the cafeteria, not yet noticing his stare, his breathing grows heavy and labored. His whole body begins shaking with the need to run, flee from this place.

"Stiles?" she touches him arm cautiously.

He shakes his head and looks at her. "I'm sorry, I've gotta go." She looks worried and shocked as he turns around and takes off out of the school, passing people who glance at him curiously and confused, along with eight pairs of eyes that watch him leave. He doesn't care if the school calls his dad, because he can't spend one more second pretending that he's fine when all he wants to do is curl up on the floor and cry. 

 ***  

When he gets home early friday afternoon, he shuts himself in his room, away from the world.

The weekend passes in isolation. No calls, no texts, no troubled werewolves hoping through his window at all hours of the night. And with no distractions, the thoughts of self-loathing accompanied by silent tears are amplified with each flash of a number on his alarm clock. Things that make him hate himself more and more seem inescapable. _Stupid, useless, clumsy, ADHD freak, not wanted, not needed, not pack..._

All day Saturday and Sunday afternoon he spends in bed, trying to sleep only to be woken up by horrid nightmares that leave him staring up at the ceiling while his mind continues to inflict its own torture on him. He remembers all back to times before the bite, when Stiles could say that he was happy. Sure, he might have only had Scott back then, but at least he had someone. Because laying here alone, makes him feel like a child again at the age of 9, his father too grieved by his mother's passing and too taken with the drink to help comfort his pained son.

Even this weekend didn't bring any improvement in him and his dad's strained relationship. He could hear his father coming in late at night and leaving early in the morning, only checking on him to make sure his son was in his bed. Once Stiles had come down to make himself lunch to find his dad at the dining table on his lunch break and looking over case files. They didn't talk to each other, Stiles more keeping himself from talking after the hurt from their last altercation, although Stiles could feel his dad's gaze occasionally resting on his back as he made himself a turkey sandwich. Only when he took his plate of food out of the kitchen to go back upstairs did he hear his father let out an exasperated, defeated sigh.

He wishes the sound of it hadn't crushed him as much as it did.

Now as the sun's rays start to grow softer in his window, signaling that the weekend is almost over, he's only come to one conclusion....

 _He wants it to end_.

He wants this throbbing pain inside of him to disappear, this agonizing loneliness to stop taunting him at every second. He's tired, _so_ _tired_ that he feels another minute awake and his soul will feel like it's being stripped away from his achingly human body.

Which is why he grabs his keys off his desk, slips on his shoes and is out the front door and hoping in his jeep, speeding off from the empty home in a silent goodbye. 

 *** 

He parks his car on the side of a forest trail and shuts the engine off, getting out quietly and leaving the keys in the ignition. He walks in a daze through the thick woods, his feet carrying him to the destination in his mind. As he walks, he sees the green of the trees' leaves and the brown of their barks pass in front of his eyes like a blur. 

The sounds of nature surrounding him are all drowned out by the voices from memories of the past months echoing in his head, all of them like claws shredding into his fragile flesh.

_"Shut up Stiles."_

_"Nobody needs you around Stilinski, not some hyperactive dweeb."_

_"You really think you could take me on Stiles? Please you're weak and scrawny, dork."_

_"I'm sorry, do I know you?"_

_"Stiles I don't have time for this ok? I've already got plans."_

_"You don't know anything, got it?!"_

_"Stiles just stop lying! I can't trust you anymore."_

_"Stay out of our way Stiles, you'll just ruin everything."_

_"I don't care what you think!"_

_"We can't be seen talking together in public, it'll damage my reputation."_

_"You're so stupid"_

_"Why do you have to make everything so difficult Stiles? For just once, can't you just listen?"_

_"I've finally got the girl, the popularity and now what, you're jealous cause you've got nothing? Can't you just be happy for me?"_

_"You really love to be an annoying shit don't you?"_

_"What would you're mother think if she saw you acting like this?"_

_"You really think we care about you, loser?"_

**_"YOU'RE NOT PACK!"_**  

He blinks and all of a sudden he's standing on the edge of Lover's Point cliff. Just four more steps and he could leap off like the couple in the 50's whom the cliff is named after. Back then it was seen as sad and poetic, the idea that two people of different colors were being torn apart by their families and society only to decide that it would be easier to die together like Romeo and Juliet. But Stiles thinks that if they were to find his body at the bottom of the ravine, there would be no poetry nor love story to be told from his death. Then again, whoa is his life.

It would be so easy to take those steps, so easy to take away this pain he's been feeling; to finally get rid of this ache inside that for months has haunted each breath he's taken. He thinks of how no longer would his father have to suffer anymore disappointment, no longer would he have to bear the burden that Stiles was. He thinks of how Scott wouldn't even notice he's gone, probably only feeling a weight off his shoulders when he hears of his once-best friend's passing, finally not having to deal with his whining and clinginess. No longer would he annoy Erica, Boyd, Isaac, Lydia, Jackson, and Derek with his incessant talking and rambling. But....

He feels a tear fall down his face, realizing all those things would be true if they actually cared about him at all. To them, his death would be like a leaf falling from a tree branch, no mourning nor second thought spared on it's fall to the ground. It's terrifying the thought that they probably wouldn't give damn if he died right now. Terrifying that they don't know he's here. There's this tiny hope that someone will come rescue him, that one of them will save him from himself. And it scares him to death that no one is coming.

He swallows over the lump in his throat as he moves one foot forward, then another. He lets out a shaky breath and takes one more step to the very edge, looking down at the vast drop to the bottom where rocky boulders rest idly in the water. _"One more step baby"_ , his mother would say when he was first learning to walk. _"C'mon, you can do it Stiles. Yes you can, do it for mama._ "

He shuts his eyes, feeling his shoulder shake and his breath quicken. _Jump, jump, jump, jump_.. 

He's pulled from his thoughts when he feels a soft hand slip into his own, caressing his knuckles. A voice speaks from behind him, almost as gently as the wind. "Stiles." It's unfamiliar to him, but he think he's heard it before.

He looks over his shoulder and sees the girl he ran into in the hall Friday, Raena . She doesn't look panicked nor upset, but wears a calm mask of sadness while gazing into his eyes. For a minute, both of them say nothing 'till her eyes slip down towards the ledge. She talks softly, like its a secret that's only meant for their ears. "You know its scary, being so close to death. The idea that one more step and everything will be gone. It's even scarier facing it alone." Her warm, chocolate eyes look back up into his as she shakes her head. "But you're not alone. _You're not._ "

He looks down at their intertwined hands, his throat closing up at the realization that he can't remember the last time someone had touched him this gently, with no purpose to hurt him nor use him.

He swallows and ask, "Are you going to be pull me back? Tell me how stupid I'm being, that I shouldn't do this because there's people that care..." he turns his gaze back down to the ravine. "..that _love_ me?" he asks the last part in a whisper.

"No."

He turns to look at her quickly. _No?_

She gives him a look holding many emotions he can't read. "If you jump, I'll go with you, and don't look at me like I'm crazy. You're not alone remember, but I'm not gonna pull you back. Me pulling back, it takes away your choice, your control...your strength. _You_ have to be the one step back Stiles, the one that says 'I'm not afraid of living, no matter how painful and hurtful it can be'." She squeezes his hand like an anchor holding him in place against the crashing waves. "And I would never, ever say that you're stupid for standing here at the end of your rope. I would say that you're lost, hurt..." he feels his eyes starting to water, "..scared. And I think there are people that care about you, even if I'm the only one to prove it. I don't need to have known you forever to know that you're worth caring about."

He turns to look over the cliff and squeezes her hand hard. She holds his tight, but doesn't pull. She says he has to be the one to take steps back. He has to be brave. _"Its ok to be scared Stiles," his mom said as she brushed away his tears caused by his nightmare. He could see she was wearing a beanie over her now hairless head, her long beautiful hair taken by the chemo. He should be the one comforting her, his beautiful mother being so close to end, but she was the one who was comforting him. "Everyone gets scared sweetie. You've just gotta be brave. Be brave for mama."_

He let out a shaky breath as he staggers back a step, then another and another, until he's stumbled back a good two feet from the ledge and crumbled down into Raena's arms. They slide down slowly on the rocky ground together, her holding him close as he lets out heart wrenching sobs. "It's ok," she comforts him quietly, rocking him back and forth. "It's ok Stiles, let it all out. You're not alone, not anymore. I promise." She press a kiss to his temple ever so softly, like any more pressure will break him.

And he realizes that, for the first time in a long time, it's nice to have someone hold him close while he cries. 


	3. Drown out the noise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, internet issues and some gaps that I wanted to not just fill with random stuff but to make it into an actual story, so took a bit of time. Reading this chapter might seem like a filler, but trust me it will become important as we go further into the story!
> 
> Also! New character coming into play, the gorgeous Sean Farris will be playing Max, Raena's older bother. (pic here) ---> http://hdwallpapersx.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/08/Sean-faris-mobile-wallpaper.jpg 
> 
> Also during the drive in the truck later in the story, the radio is playing a song and I always imagined it to be "The Call" by Ruu Campbell. (had to put this in from the actual show cause it's sooo good!) You should play it and just try to imagine driving through the trees. ^_^
> 
> hope you enjoy!

An hour and debilitating tears later, Raena drives down the road, silent and calm like the sky. He’s glad she’s driving because he doesn’t think he could get his hands to stop shaking. 

He sits in the passenger seat, feeling drained and exposed. His mask of calmness and strength is smashed into millions of pieces. His face is probably showing everything: the sadness, the ache he feels inside his chest, the helplessness. He’s numb, yet in pain all at once, anyone in a ten-mile radius could probably see it. There’s just no hiding it now, like John Lennon once said, “ _One thing you can’t hide- is when you’re crippled inside.”_

He sits there staring out the window, murmuring to Raena only the words “left” and “right” as they travel down the paved road to his home, the sun starting to descend down in the background. Those two words over and over sound almost like commands to his body to march forward in sync with the beat of his numb heart, forwarding himself to an unknown destination. 

He feels like a small child, frightened and lost, not knowing where that destination ahead will lie. 

Soon he is pulled from his thoughts when the jeep rolls up to the all too familiar road. She pulls the Jeep into his driveway and parks, turning the engine off. His dad’s cruiser isn’t there, making him let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. 

They sit in the truck for a minute, the occasional tinking sound of the engine the only thing he can hear in the silence. He looks at his house and already feels his throat closing, not wanting to go in there and be alone. He knows it will just be a crushing reminder of everything he’s trying so hard to hold in. 

“Do you want me come in with ya?” 

He turns to her, breathing easier as if she read his mind. He nods quickly, not trusting his voice at the moment to be able to say more than two words after crying brokenly She nods and motions to the door, getting out of the jeep swiftly. He silently followers her actions, shutting the door closed and heads up the stairs, Raena right beside him. She hands him his keys and he unlocks the front door, letting her go in first, following her inside and softly shutting the door.

“Wow, its homey.” She walks into the living room, taking in the room around them. “I like it.” 

“Thanks", he answers horsely. 

She wanders over to the wall, taking in the pictures of him and his dad. “I guess you and your dad must be pretty close?” 

He feels himself nod. “Yeah, I mean it’s just been us for so long, so couldn’t really help but be close.” It pains him to remember himself that he’s the wedge that's been driving the two of them apart. 

She turns to him, looking like she wants to ask, but hesitates by biting her lip. 

Stiles averts his eyes as he says, “My mom died when I was young.” He swallows around the lump in his throat, never feeling ease over her passing even after all these years.

When she speaks next, it’s quiet, “I’m sorry.” She seems to pause for condolences before saying, “I understand how that feels though. My parents died when I was four, so its just been me and my brother for as long as I can remember.”

 He looks up in surprise and empathy, but she’s already looking at the other pictures on the walls.  But he says how he feels anyways, because he knows how it hurts. “I’m sorry too.” 

“It's ok. I was kind of too young to really remember them, but sometimes, it kinda feels like this piece of me is missing and it wont come back.” 

She looks at him as he nods solemnly, feeling emotion squeezing hard on his heart. God, what he wouldn’t give to have his mother for just one more day. 

“Um..” he clears his throat. He needs to move away from these thoughts for a moment. “You can come upstairs if you want to.”

 She turns to smile lightly at him and nods. 

They head up the stairs together and towards his room, passing a picture in the hallway that both Stilinski men still have trouble looking at sometimes. He’s just about to walk into his room when he hears her say, “She’s beautiful.” 

He turns around to see she stopped following him halfway and is looking at the picture he knows all too well. He takes a small breath in and wills his feet to walk towards her, daring to look at the photo hanging in the chestnut wooden frame. 

It’s him, at the age of 7, hugging his mother tight with a smile as she laughs with an overjoyed expression on her face. It's like he can almost here the sound of her rich laugh ringing in his ears as they look at the photo. His dad has his arms around them both, looking at them as if there is nowhere he rather be, sitting together in a small clearing in the middle of a wheat field with the sun shining down on them from the blue skies above. It's was a year before the get her diagnosis, almost two years before their world’s are ripped apart. 

“Yeah, she is.” 

They stand there for a moment, before turning and heading into his room. He walks in and almost immediately tenses. Books are stacked on his desk from late night research for the pack, bed covers messed up and crumbled from tossing and turning all night. The feeling of depression and sorrow are almost so thick that it makes his eyes burn. And he worries, because undoubtedly if he can feel it, she can too. 

But what he doesn’t expect is to hear her ask the question, “You like comic books?” 

He turns to see her holding up one of his Spiderman comics, almost laying forgotten on his dresser.

“Yeah,” he walks over to her to take the comic from her hands. “I mean not all comics, but mostly Spiderman and Avengers. I just have always had a soft spot for Spidey, cause he was like the school’s nerd who became this awesome superhero, got the it girl, and saved New York.” His deep childish dream was to be Spiderman, but then again that was when he was still in love with Lydia and thought Santa was real. 

She walks around the room while smiles softly. “I always was a Dare Devil fan myself.”

A true, geek companion? Someone should pinch him, because its almost too good to be true. “Not Spiderman, even Superman, or Batman? I mean c’mon they’re like the best of the best.” It feels nice to talk about normal things, to not be treated like the breakable glass he was almost an hour ago. To almost feel the cloud of anguish clear from the room for a moment. 

She shakes her head, her long hair swinging slightly from the movement as she turn her gaze towards him. “Nah, I mean I understand why you would ask. They’re all great aren’t they? All them have superpowers, or even like batman, fight crime without them. Save the world and what not.” 

Her eyes turn to look at the picture of him and his dad from when they went fishing years ago lying on his dresser. He must be about 12 and holding up a four inch fish like it's a championship trophy, childlike joy on his and his father’s face. She lifts her hand to run a finger over his smile. "But see, daredevil was blind; caused by a tragic accident from his childhood. But that didn’t stop him from being a superhero. It didn’t hinder him, but instead made him that much better. Because, you see, every villain he faced off against though it was a weakness, thought that just cause he couldn’t see meant that he was an easy defeat. But he wasn’t. Their underestimation of him, just helped prove himself that much more.“ 

She looks in his eyes again, almost as if she could delve into his soul and shake it tight in her hands. “And I guess I’ve always just loved that type of storyline, when you can prove to everyone, the ones who doubted you or thought you were too weak just…get to prove them wrong.” She shrugs her shoulders easily with a smile. 

He swallows that piece of information slowly, his eyes slipping down to the floor as he nods his head. Her words are almost like a realization to him; that maybe he always has had a deep wish to prove himself like the blind superhero, and just never knew it. But even then, what was the point? It wouldn’t have done anything. Not changed how people saw him, not changed if they cared about him. Useless, hopeless wish. 

He lets out a shaky sigh and sits down on his bed, looking at a picture hanging on his wall of him and Scott with arms around each other. They must have been at least 5, which meant his mom must have been the one to take the picture. He doesn’t even realize that tears are trailing down his face, until Raena is tenderly wiping them away with her hand, sitting beside him with an arm around his shoulders. 

He swallows before saying, “I thought I had friends, people I would have called part of my family. People I would have done anything for. Thought I was one of them.” He breathes in weakly and closes his eyes. “Guess I was wrong.”

She pulls him into a strong hug, almost as if she could squeeze this draining depression right out of his soul. He holds onto her tight right back, feeling like she’s the last lifeline to keep him from slipping away. “Then they didn’t deserve you in the first place,” she whispers into his ear with words that have a fierce fire behind it.

And that's all it takes for him to crumble again, her arms keeping him close as he cries heavyhearted into her shoulder. How strange that he finds more comfort in the arms of someone he just met than with people he’s spent most of his life with. 

After he cries himself out again, she lays him back gently and kneels by his bedside, stroking his hair that slowly lulls him into a drowsy state.“Hey stiles,” she whispers. He crack open his eyes to look at her. “I’m just going to call my brother to tell him where I am so he can pick me up.” He doesn’t want her to go, but nods anyways. 

She smiles softly at him, before leaving the room for a minute, the ghost of her fingers sweeping over his scalp.

His eyes slip closed for a minute, before his head is being lifted, making his eyes open groggily. His head is moved and then laid down on something firm as he looks up and see Raena above him. He realizes that his head is on her legs, her back leaning against the wall.Her fingers start to rub his head again. “Shh, go to sleep Stiles. It’s ok. Just close your eyes.” 

He trusts her words, closing his eyes as he drifts off. 

***

 

 _“Even now, I find your childhood obsession with me enduring.”_

_He looks back into her doll-like eyes, feeling overwhelmed, confused, and a bit apprehensive. Shockingly, soft lips touch his, making his eyes close. Her mouth is gone in a second, but he feels happy to have had at least had one kiss from the girl he was in love with since third grade._

_He opens his eyes, seeing her face a foot from his with her eyes still closed. She’s biting her lip as if to savor the memory of the kiss_ _“Wow” she mumbles softly._

_He swallows soundlessly, “yeah.”_

_“I always wandered what it would be like to kiss you. And now I know.” She smiles almost in bliss. “It tastes like…” her eyes open up to reveal two cold ones looking deep in his, “…nothing.” Her lips curl into a vicious looking smile._

_He feels in shock, the shiver of dread curling in his stomach._

_She brings her hands to hold his face, nails curling into his skin. “It’s almost like kissing someone who is already dead. Like kissing nothing at all, just a waist of space.” She growls lowly, her nails feeling like there are almost etching the words into his flesh._ _He tries scooting back, but he’s at the end of couch, trapped there, trying desperately to pull away from her hands. She just crawls closer till she’s practically straddling him._

_He shakes his head. “Please, just stop…”_

_“You’re obsession is so enduringly...pathetic. You think I could love you?” She sticks her face right up in his. “You think **anyone** could love you?!” _ _She retracts her hand from his face before plunging into his stomach, stabbing through the skin as if she had claws. He screams, fidgeting helplessly against the pain._

_“You should just die Stiles!” she screams at him. “JUST DIE! DIE! DIE!”_

_He feels a copper taste filling his mouth, making him choke helplessly. Another hand grabs his neck and tips his head back onto the arm of the coach, nails digging dip into the skin._ _He meets a pair of red eyes, the stubbled face owner growling out, “DIE!” before ripping his throat as the strawberry blonde screams loudly._

He sits up and gasps for air, shooting a hand to cover his mouth to prevent himself from yelling. He breaths through his nose harshly, his other hand touching his neck and stomach to feel them thankfully intact. He wipes his hands over his face, scrubbing off the remnants of sweat. Another nightmare, another day he’s going to feel exhausted and drained.

He sees that he’s still wearing his clothes from earlier and that Raena is gone, only a note on the wall to show that she was here.

     Stiles

        Sorry I didn’t wake you, but you look like you needed the rest.

        I’ll see you at school!

     ~Raena      

        P.S. You’re not alone

The clock shows 5:17 as he already climbs out of bed and heads to the bathroom, ready to shower away the sweat and grief of the early morning. He thinks he might run for coffee, the only savior that will probably keep him from falling asleep in class. Maybe even just some cruising in his jeep for a few hours would be nice before school. 

He already knows he won’t be going back to sleep anyway.

*** 

After a coffee run and mindless driving for a few hours, he pulls up to the school a few minutes before the warning bell will ring. He hops out of the car and takes a deep breath as he heads into the school, keeping his eyes low and moving around people in the hallway. 

He grabs his books from his locker and secretly searches in the crowd hallway for any sign of Raena. He can’t help but feel a stab of disappointment when he doesn’t spot her.  She could just be busy or could have found new friends, either option not seeming to good. He hates that he got up his hope yesterday only to now feel a bit crushed.  He guess its just another day, another 24 hours to feel completely alone.  

The warning bell sounds as he makes quick work to class, head facing down and trying to ensure that he doesn’t run into the pack this morning. 

One painful reminder at a time is all he can handle right now. 

***

He walks into the cafeteria, looking out into the vast sea of adolescence. His eyes sweep over the waves of classmates until he sees them, all sitting at the same table talking engrossed with one another.

He can see Allison bump Scott’s shoulder affectionately as a smile crosses both their faces. He sees how Scott turns his head the other way and says something as Isaac bends his head down, hiding the twitch of his lips. He sees Jackson smirk at something Boyd is saying, his arm behind Lydia’s chair as she reads something off a paper, absolute concentration. He sees how Danny is listening with a smile on his face to the conversation, and how Erica leaning into Boyd’s space, listening too with interest.

 And all Stiles can see or think at that moment is that **_they don’t know._**

They don’t know that he was standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to take his own life not even 24 hours ago. They don’t know that he feels this suffocating weight in his chest looking at them, as if he was never there in the first place. They don’t know that he needed them to save him from himself, yet their smiles now tell him that they probably wouldn’t even care to hear what almost happened yesterday.

He can feel his breathing speeding up, everyone’s voices in the cafeteria becoming louder and louder like waves crashing against each other.  His eyes shift over as he sees people laugh with one another, smiling and enjoying lunch with their friends. His hands arm shaking, as a cold drip of sweat runs down his spine.

He’s alone, alone, alone, alone, alONE, ALONE, ALON—

A hand grabs his and pulls him back into the deserted hallway and away from the overwhelming lunchroom. He closes his eyes as the person guides to lean back against the lockers, his head clunk against the metal as he tries to catch his breath in the midst of the panic attach, willing himself not to crumble down into a heap.

A soft hand cups his cheek, a thumb caressing slowly over the skin of his cheek. “Hey.”

He opens his eyes and sees Raena, her dark hair falling down the sides of her face as she looks at him with concern and understanding. “It’s ok Stiles, its ok. Just breathe for me ok, slow deep breaths. Ok?”

He nods quickly and swallows, closing his eyes again and breathes deep through his nose. His hand grabs her shoulder for stability, but that seems to do little to startle her as she keeps running her thumb over his face gently.

After a few minutes, his breathing calms down, like the sea mellowing after a passing storm, and opens his eyes to meet hers. “Thanks” he says quietly. He feels embarrassed that she’s has seem him like this, the worst of it yesterday, but she just shakes her head and smiles softly at him.

“No problem, what are friends for?”

It hits him with an ache in his the center of his chest; he doesn’t think she knows just how much that means to him.

The corners of his mouth quirk up as she steps back and lets him stand up on his own. He can see that she’s wearing jeans and a short sleeved navy t-shirt, with the same black converse from yesterday. She’d fit in everyone else in there, laughing right along side with them. He feels a heavy guilt knowing that he’s the thing holding her back.

He adjusts the straps of his backpack on his shoulder and lets his gaze drift down to the speckled tile floor. “Looking in there got me. Just…it's hard to see everyone in there and not feel…” He shakes his head, no knowing which word could cover all that he feels.

“Its ok. I only know you, but it must be hard to know actual people in there and feel alone.”

He nods wordlessly, rolling his lips back and forth.

He feels her place a hand on his shoulder, squeezing firmly. “Sorry I wasn’t here this morning. Had to help my brother with some stuff with the house and then sort stuff out with the front office. But I didn’t want you to think that I was bailing on you.”

He feels relief at that and looks up at her, shaking his head. “Didn’t think you would.” He finds now that he really believes it. She has done nothing but prove that she cares.

She smiles and bumps her hand on his arm. “Good, cause I wouldn’t. Sorry Stiles Stilinski, but you’re stuck with me.”

He can’t help the answering grin he wears.

Her eyes somber as she looks at the cafeteria entrance, like she knows he doesn’t want to venture into that open ocean again. And he _really_ doesn’t want to go back in there. She looks back at him and her face seems to lighten up with an idea. “How about you and me sneak out of here and go for drive?”

He takes a moment to thinks about the school calling his dad, him sighing exasperated and disappointed with a hand over his face in his office down at the police station. But he can't stay here, he just can't. He already feels like he’s drowning and Raena’s offering him a hand to pull him out of the water, something he desperately needs right now to keep from going under again. So he’s going to take it.

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

She grins at him and grabs his hand, immediately pulling him down the hall. Running behind her and hearing her laugh echo in the hall, his own chuckle escapes freely from his mouth as they run out the double doors and into the sun.

*** 

It’s funny how the sun brings to light things you wouldn’t notice, like the different birds flying up above in the sky or the different paths in the forest and wonder where they both go.

 Even when the sun’s glow peaks through the trees, he feels the warmth of it on his face, evened out with the cool wind blowing in through the rolled down window. It makes him feel lighter as he breaths in, eyes fluttering open and closed as if he could fall asleep and live in this heavenly state between sleep and wakefulness. They travel along the road in Raena’s truck, her behind the wheel and him in the passenger seat with the radio playing between them. It let’s a soft melody with guitars and a voice whispering words almost as if spinning velvet with them. Raena hums to the music with a soft smile on her face.

The smooth road curves through the tall forest trees, the smell of pine drifting into his nose. They’re driving away from town, he can tell that much, but its welcoming as each minute away from the school and everyone feels like a weight is being lifted off his chest, little by little. Like on a raft, taking in new breaths and floating down the river to somewhere safe.

Within a few minutes, a dark red two-story house comes into view. It’s solitarily built in these woods, like the old Hale house had been, sitting in a small clearing with trees surrounding them. White flowers grow in front lawn of the house, making the place look welcoming to him.

The sound of the truck seems to alert the owner as he comes out the front door, wiping his hands on a rag. The guy has short brown hair, tan skin, and deep brown eyes. He could pass for about 26 or 28, sweat on his forehead and a grease smudge on his cheek. Obviously working an engine of some kind. He also bears similar features to Raena, making Stiles guess that this is her older brother.

 They pull up to the front on the driveway, as Raena and him hop out of the truck and head towards the house. “Hey Max!”

The guy, Max, sighs out loud. “Rae, I hate to ask, but why aren’t you in school?” He is trying to keep up a serious façade, but the twitch of his mouth gives him away.

She shrugs her shoulders. “It was…” she turns her head to meet her eyes, “…cancelled.”

Stiles bites lip to keep from smiling as she turns her head and smiles innocently. “Anyway, I brought home a friend I’d like you to meet! Stiles this is my brother Max Santora, Max this is Stiles Stilinski.”

He awkwardly waves a hand at Max who nods with a smile in greeting. “Nice to meet you. Rae was talking about you yesterday, said you were pretty awesome.”

He flushes, ‘pretty awesome?’ Sure, if you count having two breakdowns and being a longer awesome. But he’s inner sarcastic rant is cut short, when Raena turns to look at him again, saying with sincere fondness, “Yeah, he is.”

Maybe not all of his hope for someone to care was in vain.

“Well, if she says you’re great, I usually take her word for it.” He turns to head inside, before calling back,  “You both can come inside, I was just gonna start making lunch.”

His stomach growls on cue, causing Raena to chuckle and shake her head. “C’mon, my brother makes the best bacon cheese burgers.”

***

Stiles waves to Max on the porch, as he and Raena climb back into the truck hours later. He can still feel the ache in his stomach from laughing so hard, practically crying as Raena and Max tell him about crazy childhood stories for hours over the best bacon cheeseburgers ever. Seriously, he ate two and a half, mostly because Raena stole the rest of his. As they travel down the forest road in easy silence, he can’t remember in these past months when he actually laughed…at all.

It’s late in the afternoon, school having finished an hour ago, but the tiredness he feels at the moment is a welcome one. No exhaustion from nightmares, distant friends, or a distant dad. It’s energy he spent happily with people who cared about what he had to say and who seemed to care for him the same way he is beginning to care for them.

He feels a nudge against his arm and turns to see Raena raising her eyebrows at him. He chuckles and nudges her back, fake coughing out, “Tinker Bell.”

She fake gasps, laughing out loud. “Well excuse me Spiderman, but my fairy powers were freakin’ magical back then! There was just no denying it!”

Stiles laughs when remembering how the two Sontara siblings recounted about how when Rae was six, she saw the first Peter Pan movie and immediately started dressing up as Tinker Bell and forcing her brother to say “Poof” every time she hit him with her light glittery wand. Later Max grumbled out how he had to start throwing glittery in the air as well, to apparently to show that “the magic was working”.

He looks out the window, the sun start descending from overhead. “Man, you had you’re brother wrapped around your fingers.”

Raena just flashes a mischievous smile at him before turning her eyes back to the road.

But besides the childhood stories, Stiles could see how even when Max grumbled about the little things he did to make his sister happy, he looked at her with caring love, like he would do anything to make sure his little sister was happy. The two of them against the world.

It makes him wish that he had someone who would do the same for him.

Time passes quickly before Raena pulls into the school parking lot, only a few cars here and there still left. He hops out of the truck with his backpack, shutting the door behind him and leaning against it.

“Thank you,” he says with a serious, grateful expression through the open window. He needed this, these few hours to breath again, to laugh.

Raena just nods at him, the corner of her lips lifting. “No problem Spidey.”

He shakes his head, turning and heading to his jeep, before he hears “Hey!” He turns back towards her. “I’ll pick ya up in the morning if you want?!”

He nods quickly, feeling relief and joy at the prospect of having someone right by his side in the morning. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

She smiles at him before slowly driving away, pulling out into the road and heading back home.

He breathes out with a grin, turning around and heading towards his car. He’s just about to open the door when he hears a whistle blowing, his head turning towards the field where lacrosse practice is apparently going on. Shit, he’s forgot all about it these past days. But then again, who would miss their benchwarmer anyways?

He sees Scott’s number, running with the ball as Isaac tackles a player beside him. He shots the shot, passing the goalie as it sails through the net, earning a hooting cheer from his team. Danny jumping up and down, guarding his goal. Jackson offers a hand to Isaac, pulling him up and wrapping a arm around his shoulders, a gloved hand shaking his helmet with affection. Lydia and Allison are yelling, spurring on the small victory.

He doesn’t see Erica, Boyd or Derek, but it doesn’t matter anyways. Something about this scene, this one right here hurts. Because he remembers the game during the Kamina incident and actually scoring goals. He remembers his teammates cheering before the lights when off and being kidnapped and beaten by Gerard. He remembers trying also to free Erica and Boyd, not wanting to leave them behind. He remembers he had to do a sad walk home and lie once again to his dad. The night was one where instead of getting praises and joy, he ended up with bruises and guilt.

Suddenly, like a gasoline being ignited, he’s angry. Heck, he’s fucking mad!

He hops into his jeep, turning on the engine and peeling out of the parking lot towards his house. He’s done digging himself into the ground, he’s done hurting for people who couldn’t give a shit about him.

He gets to his house in record time, getting out of the car before the engine even begins to cool. His dad’s not home, but then again when is he ever except to point out what a disappointment his son is. Stiles runs up to his room, wrenching open the closet and digging in the back for the box his hid in there. Once he finds it, he pulls it open and grabs the large bag of black sand out he got from Deaton. Mountain ash.

He runs downstairs and outside, sprinting towards the side of the house. He gets down on the ground and starts digging the dirt up as close to the wall as possible, then pours some mountain ash in, covering it back up with dirt once more. He does this all around the house, making sure no crack is left uncovered. He even uses the little bit of magic he knows to have the ash get right into the hard wood floorboards on the porch, right up into the walls and the front door. He then runs into the house and makes sure every window is sealed with it, even getting the back door. Once done, he looks at his work.

And after almost two hours, his jeans and under his fingernails are covered in dirt, sweat gathering at his hairline and neck with the now smaller bag of mountain ash hanging loosely from his hand. The fire of anger has burned out, leaving him tired and in desperate need to head upstairs and shower. He’s feels ready to wash away everything and everyone that forgot and hurt him, that made him feel no better than the dirt he’s covered in.

He’s breathes out, feeling his heart pound against his ribs. He’s done what he's needed to do, what he wanted to do, and he hopes that none of them ever come back. 


End file.
